Private What Surprise Holds in Store

[Astrid Skovgaard]

The ship shook violently as it entered the atmosphere. Dammed thing. Astrid still hadn’t managed to get the hang of it. Why anyone had let her out to pilot one on her own was beyond her, but she was grateful for the opportunity. Of course, there had been no plan. No charters, no maps, no course set. Astrid had fully intended to simply fly from the moment she had pulled the ship away from Geonosis, but as usual, the gods had a different plan in mind. She had floated lazily across the empty black of space, staring at the stars a thousand lightyears away, and was content to remain so… until the proximity alarms began to blare. Now she was heading nose-first into a sea of shocking green.

Just before any damage could come to her and the ship, she managed to correct her trajectory. The autopilot took over from there and brought her to a slow and steady stop on the peak of a hill.

As far as her eyes could see, there was nought but green. Long, green, swaying grass that bowed and bent to the mercy of the wind as it whipped over the plains. The lush land was topped with a beautiful clear blue sky, not a single cloud in sight to taint its purity. Even the horizon was bare, free of looming man-made structures, free of mother nature’s hand raised trees. This planet, this place. The peace it coveted across every inch. Astrid couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt calm here. Calm as though she stood in front of Fadirin’s Tree. Calm as though she stood before him to receive his blessing. Thus far life, fortune had not seen fit to grace her, but stumbling upon this haven was definitely cause enough to celebrate.

With every slow, purposeful step she took the heel of her boot sank into the soft, shifting dirt beneath. Astrid wasn’t even sure what was drawing her forward. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they guided her, one foot in front of the other, forever forward across the rolling hills. As she neared the crest of a hill, the wind brought a familiar scent on the breeze. A salty-sweet scent that Astrid recognized immediately. A fresh-water lake. The edges of her nostrils twitched as she turned her head in an attempt to secure the direction of the scent, but it wasn’t needed. When she reached the top of the hill, the lake was in plain sight.

Beautiful, blue and still. The only thing reflected in its surface was the bright yellow sun that lingered in the sky, beating down the familiar rhythm of heat across the entire planet. Was this what her feet had been dragging her toward? Was this what the gods had wanted her to see? The slender lupine practically skipped down the hill toward the water's edge, where she found herself eagerly sitting to stare into the shimmering mirror of water.

A slender finger cut through the air to touch the surface of the water. The weight of it broke the tension, causing ripple after ripple to disturb the ordinarily calm lake. The reflection of her face squirmed and twisted until it was barely recognizable even to her own eyes. It was perhaps the first unperfect thing Astrid had come across since she left the interior of her ship. It was ironic, truthfully. Perhaps this place had gone the whole of its existence without a single soul happening upon it, without a single person disturbing the peace that mother nature had blessed it with. Yet, here she was. Prodding and poking and crushing.

Astrid scrunched her face up and withdrew as quickly as she dared from the water’s edge. It felt shameful. Humans didn’t belong here, not with all their destructive and violent nature. She drew herself up, pressing her knees against her chest and wrapping her arms around them securely. Human’s might not have belonged there, but lupines did… perhaps. If she simply sat here to drink in the natural beauty and calming atmosphere of this strange and wonderful planet. Perhaps that’s what the gods had intended for her here. Life had been one whirlwind to the next since she and Torgeir left home.

Maybe this was her chance to find some peace.

 

[Ishmael Verd]

L O S T​

Tag: Astrid Skovgaard

Who am I?

When Asphyxion...no...Ravager...no...Ishmael? It didn't matter the name - when He looked into the mirror, it was not his face that he saw. It was not his face that any among the stars saw. For the longest time, it had been the face of another, the face of the original - yet far younger. As a clone, his very identity was intimately linked to the existence of One. And that link? Was a poor copy. If He was being honest with himself, that's all that he was - wasn't he? Born to serve. Born and cast away from the one whose face he bore. Born and made to kneel - made to burn before the hands of a Mad King.

And so, Ishmael tried to stand on his own two feet. He made the inferno his own. He took the name Ravager - tossed to him by the monarch - and attempted to dive out of the man's shadow.

But for every blaze he set, his original's burned brighter. For every victory, every conquest, the original did more. Where Ravager succeeded in single steps, the original conquered in literal bounds. Finally, Ravager found purpose anew amidst the failing First Order. They introduced him to a new flame - the Ren - and the power of determination through its fire. He chose the mantle Asphyxion. Born of the desire to choke the memory of that man out of his soul. And yet, even as the First Order died and his own power base began - his success was smothered by the original. They clashed, indirectly on Arkam. Clashed, and in the fighting his forces scattered.

He failed and failed and failed and failed.

It was maddening.

And so he wandered. Wandered until the last subordinate died or defected. Wandered until the inferno of his ambitions had died into scattered embers. The man, broken, slammed his fist into the hyperdrive console and wound up in a verdant world. Not stranded - mind - but with no desire to do anything else. It was...so peaceful. The wind upon his form inspired him to take the helm of Ren off of his face. To unclasp the cloak which hung heavily upon his shoulders. His footsteps, aimless, bore him across the fields. Over verdant waves of flowing grasses. The world was speaking - whispering the questions he could not ask himself.

Why was he angry?
Why was he hurting?

But loudest of all - Who was He?

At last his tired feet trudged before the lakeside. And defeat sank into his bones. Descent gripped him as his knees buckled. The helm clattering onto the earth and spilling into the waters. He hadn't noticed that there was another there. He hadn't cared. And in that instant of ignorance, his pain, anger, loss - it erupted. His anguished cry ripped across the waters. A breath. A yell. A breath. A crack in his voice. A breath. The sound of a lump forming as the sting grabbed his eyes. And then, amidst the comforting embrace of the verdant breeze?

Silence.​

 

[Astrid Skovgaard]

The mirrored surface of the lake had remained undisturbed since her arrival. The unwavering yellow light of the sun had warmed her bones to the core. The sound of the breeze and the rustle of the grass had been her only company. Hours could have passed by, or minutes, and Astrid would have been none the wiser. Certainly, there was peace to be found here, and she had been doing her best to give it chase. But much like the wind, peace wasn’t tangible. Impossible to bottle, or to cage, chasing for peace felt as moot as putting fire out with a grenade.

Astrid bristled and allowed her shoulders to relax. Peace was something that crept up on you. Peace was something that only came when you weren’t hunting for it. Perhaps that was it. She would just have to give up the chase. Just as she released a steadying breath, something made her ear twitch, but it wasn’t something. It was someone. A shadowy figure on the horizon at first, but he needed only to take a few steps forward for her eyes to begin to pick out his features. She didn’t recognize him, and she hadn’t expected too. What was more surprisingly was the fact that he seemed to be heading directly toward the lake.

Naturally, as he approached, Astrid retreated. Just a few cautious steps, but they were unnecessary. He didn’t even seem to notice her. Instead, he screamed. So loudly that Astrid was forced to cover her ears to mute the sound.

A deep, guttural growl escaped the teeth she suddenly and openly bared at the stranger. One that had no right emanating from the throat of a human, never mind a woman. The act was threatening, to say the least, but its intentions were far from violent. The presence of another, and his sudden announcement, had merely frightened the beast within. The beast that was as much a slave to instinct as the earth to mother nature. Astrid had no more control over it as she did the sun rising in the east.

However, the moment her shocking pink eyes came to rest on the crouched figure, the aggressive stance her form had locked in relaxed. One did not need to be in possession of the magic the gods had blessed Astrid with to know that this man was in pain. Ignoring the fact that his anguished cry still tore through her ears, he wore his worries and troubles like armour. Even though the endlessly bright light of the sun made her sensitive eyes ache, she could see it etched into his form. As clear as the day fate had decided they were to share.

Astrid cocked her head as she weighed up the merits of disturbing his search for peace. Would the gods have lead her here if they hadn’t intended for her to meet him? Was his aggression contained to his own soul? Or did he have no qualms displaying it openly? The wolf made her sniff the air, as though his scent would hold the answer to any of her question. It didn’t, of course, but it made the wolf feel safer. Instead of shouting, as he had, or shuffling and causing him to startle, Astrid decided to tickle his senses with the force. Just enough to make him aware of the other presence standing not six feet beside him.

Just enough to break the silence.

Ishmael Verd​

 

[Ishmael Verd]

O B J E C T I V E​

Tag: Astrid Skovgaard

The act spat in the face of his lessons.

Whether it was the harsh tutelage of the late Krag, or the training flashed into his skull before his "birth", the man had known better. Had been expected to be better than this. Yet, in that moment, his very instincts had fallen by the wayside. All he knew had been replaced by an Abyss of despair which rested firmly in his stomach. Those first, tentative steps towards the lake's edge were alive with ignorance. He had failed to mark his surroundings. Failed to recognize the lay of the land, or to even raise his guard remotely. It seemed like this truth was a reflection of his state of being - that even in the basics, he was a failure.

The roar which tore from his lips defeaned him from the surrounding world.

The sound of his voice dulled the growl which rumbled in response. Were it any time before, the man would have known better. Responded better. Acknowledged that he was far from being alone in this foreign world. Rather, the depths of his failures blinded him - enough so that the frightening of the wolf fell upon deaf ears. He drew a breath after expelling his sorrows across the waters. And returned to the yell. Again and again. Quieter and quieter. Until only the gentle caress of the winds broke the silence. Soon, the young wolf announced her presence - not by voice nor by touch. Yet by feeling.

She was as a candlelight in the Force. An sudden illumination against the darkness which had claimed the man. And in that moment, his own instincts howled above the sorrow. All those years of training - of suffering - caused his muscles to tense without thinking. Turning, his body responded in one fluid motion. His dominant hand swinging across his torso to collect the silver hilt dangling from his waist. His fingers clutching tightly to aim, defiantly, in the direction of the woman. His thumb resting upon the ignition switch. But the bloodshine blade did not erupt into being just yet - for his mind caught up with his instincts in short order.

"Who are you?" the baritone of his voice rumbled across the six foot gap. Yet, as he inspected his peer, the tension waned in his shoulders. His instinct soon stifled - the hilt of his weapon soon lowered - and a sigh escaped his lips. "Sorry...you startled me."

Said the pot to the kettle.​

 

[Astrid Skovgaard]

When his endless screams finally relented, Astrid scrunched her nose up, till fine wrinkles formed on the bridge. The deathly glare in her shocking pink eyes that she offered him in response to his question spoke more than words ever could.

He was the one responsible for the endless tone that now shredded through her ears. The one that made his voice seem muted, as though he were underwater. Even if she'd heard him properly, his question was moot. She should have been the one to quiz him. He was the one who had distrubed her, not the other way around. "I do not hand my name out to the unknown. I would not ask of you to do the same."

Astrid stuck her nose up into the air as best she could, but the bright white light of the sun forced her to shut her senstive eyes. The moment her world was surrnedered to the darkness behind her eye lids, the wolf protested. Loudly. Her attempt at a snobbish response lasted all of half a second. As her bright pink gaze set upon his face once more, she decided it was her turn to ask the questions. "Why do you scream?"

With both the wolf and herself slighted by the aggrivating pitches of the stranger, Astrid turned back to face the shimmering surface of the lake. She carried on talking, as though she didn't expect an answer. "Like a pup who caught his tail in a door. You could not even notice what was before your eyes." A lot of her animosity for the latter part of this statement stemmed from his aggressiveness , the rest came from her aching ear drums. To distract herself, she dipped her albaster hands into the waters below.

The resulting spray of cool droplets did exactly as Astrid hoped. By the time she had wiped the last few dew drops from her rosed cheeks, both she and the wolf were much calmer. Enough to face the stranger, this time ready to hear the answer to the only question she'd asked.

Ishmael Verd​

 

[Ishmael Verd]

F O U N D​

Tag: Astrid Skovgaard

Pride reared its ugly head.

As the woman set her gaze upon him, it was evident that she was not amused. Evident that his outburst was far from welcome in her presence. Moreover, he had just pulled a weapon on her to boot. When she answered, a pang erupted in his stomach. Like embers attempting to light a flame. Pride. For but a millisecond the embers were an impassioned voice in the back of his mind - who the kark does she think she's talking to? It was whilst her eyes momentarily closed that his face contorted to match the hubris within his mind. Shoulders tensed. Grip upon the weapon tightened.

Until a huff escaped his nostrils, smothering the embers like a stiff breeze.

Though more than blunt about it, the woman was accurate in her assessment. Here he was, a grown man, spilling his guts with no regard for who was about and where he was. Here he was, a soldier, letting his guard down like an amateur. Like he hadn't spent the whole of his life going through hell to be better than this. As the huff escaped his nostrils, the tension in his form vanished. The weapon was not only lowered, but returned to his waist. I do not hand my name out to the unknown. yet echoed in his ears. And the obvious response was to introduce himself.

His lips parted to answer, but he found no name on his tongue to give. And once again, that sensation which drew him here in the first place settled in the pit of his stomach. Rather, he inclined his head, respectfully.

"You're right." came his admission. "That was...rude of me." Though pride was very much a part of his person, it was far easier to apologize than to answer her question. Why did he scream? Righting himself, he knelt upon the grass and sighed audibly. "It's...hard to explain really. You ever just feel lost? Like, what's the point of your life up until now? Who are you?"

He let the remark about the pup go unanswered, he earned that one. "Just got a lot on my plate, I guess you could say. Was just trying to get some of it out." As he spoke, his gaze swept over the water and he was just able to make out his reflection. The breeze and the angle distorted his view ever so slightly, but he could make it out just fine. The scars running down his neck, he knew they were there. The mess of hair swayed in the breeze. The darkness in his eyes. The waters all but screamed that the original did not have these qualities.

For but a moment, some semblance of relief eased onto his shoulders. "My name...is Ishmael. Are you...from around here?"​

 

[Nimue]

Wrong char, please delete!

 

[Astrid Skovgaard]

C U R I O U S​

Ishmael Verd

Astrid shook her head gently. “Not rude. Just, unaware.” The wolf scoffed at it, and were it not for the stranger’s eyes fixated on her face, Astrid would have scoffed too. Intuition and instinct were their prime sources of defense, and attack. The idea that someone would give it up was almost laughable, but perhaps there was more to this man’s pain. Something had clearly upset him to the point of abandoning all he had ever learned.​

​

“I do not mean to be… aggressive. You hurt my ears.” She reached up to tap the milk-white ears on either side of her head. She didn’t know the word for sensitive, or how to describe the fact that she was a wolf living in a human body. Still, she said nothing further as the man dove into his explanation. So, he was lost. Not lost in the sense that he didn’t know where he was, or that he had taken a wrong turn, but lost in his mind. Lost in life. Astrid scrunched her face up sympathetically, or at least as sympathetically as she could manage.​

​

“Lost is not real.” She said plainly. She didn’t. Fadirin’s teachings were clear. “Lost is never truly lost, because all steps you take lead to something. And when you finally get there you wonder why you ever thought you were lost in the first place.” At this point, Astrid crossed her legs and straightened her back, shuffling until she faced the man head on.​

​

The bright sunlight streaming from the clear blue sky made it difficult to work out his features. But she could see the scars littering his neck, she could see the wild mop of curls on top of his head, she could see the pain behind his eyes. Her head tilted, giving her a look that resembled a curious pup. He had given her his name, should she share hers? The wolf refused, it did not like the idea of a stranger knowing them. Especially not one who could just as easily slice them in half with little to no warning, but Astrid disagreed. Trust was a fickle thing, and when someone offered a branch out to begin building the foundations, it was always best to take it.​

​

“My name is Astrid. I do not come from here, and I do not believe you are lost. You are just on a journey in which you do not know the destination. Things will become clear.” She lent forward marginally, just enough so that her violent pink gaze could match his. “You are not from here either, are you?”​